On The Way To A Smile
by sascake
Summary: "I can't just tell Norway that I'm in love with him, Ned- he'd kill me before I could finish my sentence." Denmark was depressed and silent about his feelings. Norway was stubborn and determined to ignore him. Netherlands was a surprisingly good therapist to them both. DenNor.
1. dreams

**smile**, verb: to bear troubles patiently { from scandinavian origin }

* * *

It's a dream. It has to be a dream. Never in reality would Norway be perched on his lap, pressing kisses to his jaw while trailing his fingers along his cheek and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. For God's sake, Norway ___never _said anything sweet- except maybe to Iceland, and the stupid kid didn't even appreciate his brother's care and attention.

His mind knows it's just a fantasy, but it feels so ___real. _Denmark isn't quite ready to give up his contact with the Norwegian and he clings to him, fingers digging into his companion's slender hips and lips moving to ghost over his. ___Jeg elsker dig _he whispers, and Norway only smiles. Not one of his usual cold smirks, but an actual goddamn smile.

___Just calm down _is his reply, and when his mouth moves to his neck the Dane is able to take in their location. Holy shit, he's actually in ___Norway's bedroom_- the last time he was here was centuries ago, back when the Norwegian was softer and their friendship a hell of a lot better.

The decor's changed since then but he's able to recognise the bed and general layout of the room, before he gasps at the sensation of Norway's cool hand sliding under his shirt. The blond's other hand moves to undo his buttons in his usual, graceful manner, and in no time the shirt is pushed from his shoulders. It's kind of unfair that Norway is still fully clothed, and he's left sitting in just his pants, but Denmark can't find it in him to complain.

Norway is straddling him now, and Denmark pulls him down to kiss him properly. The Norwegian's lips are chapped and cold, and Denmark teases his mouth open with his tongue. If it's a dream, he couldn't care less- this is the one and only time he can get this close to Norway without being beaten back and hell, in a way he prefers this Norway; at least this one responds to his caresses and _welcomes _them. Norway cups his face with his hands and right now, he couldn't be happier .

___I love you. _This time it's in English, and his voice is desperate- Denmark needs him to know this, to understand how much he cares. It's true, of course- he's been in love with Norway for years now, a love that drives him insane and frustrates him because of the lack of development. Norway only rolls his eyes with a sigh, but this time it's almost kind. The platinum blond leans forwards to reconnect their lips again, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his hands run through Denmark's hair. The Dane shivers, and Norway smirks into their kiss.

___I know. You've told me enough times. You just won't give up, will you? _Norway's palms press into his chest and Denmark grips his wrists with an iron hold, Norway actually whining as his hold is disturbed. The Dane doesn't listen to him, and simply presses his forehead against the Norwegian's. ___Danmark-_

___You really expect me to give up when I'm in love with you? And here I thought that you knew me, Norge. _He's surprisingly honest in his dreams, just as Norway is surprisingly physical. The other nation's hands are grappling at Denmark's shoulders now, and his mouth is pressing hasty, sloppy kisses to his neck. Norway is ___never _this out of control, but then again, the Dane knows that he's just so damn irresistable-

___I love you, too. _Norway's whisper makes him freeze, hands stilling on the blond's slim waist. The Norwegian's hands move up, until he's holding Denmark's face and staring him in the eye. ___I love you, Denmark. _Shakily, the blond places his hand over Norway's, fingers sliding between the gaps to his own face. Norway smiles at him then- a genuine, heartfelt smile.

That's when Denmark knows that, without a doubt, he's dreaming. Norway wouldn't do this- Norway would ___never _do this, it's not him, it's not the Norway he knows and loves-

The fantasy shatters around him. Norway disappears, smile and all, and Denmark's heart sinks. There was still that slim chance that it was real, that Norway really did just tell him that he loved him. Of course, the Dane's luck would just ___have _to give it to him in a perfect, frustrating dream.

It was a soft, rough, definitely-not-human lick to the face that woke him up properly. Denmark opened his eyes to find his cat perched on his chest and patting his nose while his phone buzzed with fourteen missed calls from his boss. Hardly a flushed, sleeping Norway, and Denmark sighed through his nose. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, and he'd most definitely slept until late morning; not that he cared. His day was probably going to be lazing around the house, maybe having a conference call from his boss, and drinking that night with Prussia or Netherlands. Same old predictable peace times.

Good old reliable Denmark, the drink-happy, has-been King of Scandinavia who couldn't even get Norway to return his feelings, he thought bitterly.

His day didn't get off to the best of starts.

* * *

It was a direct taunt when he finally stumbled downstairs, rubbing his face and blinking blearily, to find Norway sitting at the kitchen table. The Norwegian glanced up from his tea, gaze running coolly over Denmark's body. No doubt he was examining the bad state he was in, rather than admiring him- the blond knew his hair was limp and unstyled, eyes rimmed with dark circles, and head aching from a hangover. Whatever he'd had to drink last night had taken its toll, and he could imagine the probably scorn Norway was feeling even as he glanced back to his newspaper.

"You're up late." It was a remark, rather than a question, and Denmark gave a sheepish shrug and grin in response. Now he was in the kitchen, he could see Sweden sitting at the other side of the table, eyes focused on his phone as Sealand tugged on his arm in an attempt to gain his attention. Denmark ruffled the micronation's hair as he passed, opening the fridge and peering into it for his breakfast.

"I couldn't get to sleep last night." It was true, in a way. Sleep, and his subsequent Norway dream, had taken their time to come. "Where's Finland and Iceland?" The two smallest of the five- excluding Sealand- were noticeable absent. Sweden answered this time, head still lowered and concentration mainly focused on his phone and his whining son.

"Finn's takin' Hanatamago f'r a walk. Iceland's got a meetin' with his boss." Denmark slid into a seat at the table, mind still sulking from his dream. He needed another bar tonight, that was for sure. The three men sat in silence, the only noise the rustling of Norway's newspaper and the quiet words passed between Sweden and Sealand.

Things had improved from their worst point- the time when letters sent to Sweden's house returned unopened, when Denmark would go into fits of binge drinking and rage over their betrayal and Iceland was the only one left with him, the last one to quietly clear up the fallouts and glass embedded in his hands as Denmark was too busy swept up in his own misery. Thankfully, their situation wasn't like that anymore, not nowadays; their conflict consisted of teasing and insults about each other's cooking.

(The Nordics were probably the only family of nations who got along relatively peacefully, as opposed to the maniacal fights of the rest of Europe. At last week's world meeting, Romano had mistaken Canada for America and wrestled him to the ground. A furious France had become involved, soon followed by Spain, then England, and then the whole thing had become chaos_. _Germany had then swept his papers off the desk in a temper and stormed out, ending the meeting for sure. Finland stayed behind to hand out refreshments).

It was unfair, though, that two of the Nordics other than him had paired up- there was Sweden and Finland, all sweet and affectionate and so obviously in love. Those two had no problem with admitting their love, and it was clear to see that Sweden- stern, cold _Sweden- _adored him. It was lucky that the object of _his _affections was happy to return his feelings, and Denmark was happy for them, sure but why not him and Norway? Why could those two be together, and not them? Why did Finland have to love Sweden, and Norway ignore all of his advances?

"Put a shirt on." As if on cue, Norway's voice cut through his mind like a razor. Denmark had slammed his forehead on the table after sitting, cursing his headache, but raised his voice and stared at Norway. The blond huffed, attention going back to his newspaper. "You're all sweaty and disgusting. I don't want to see that at this time of the morning."

"Oh come on, Norge, you know you love it." Denmark's voice was teasing, but he sighed as the Norwegian steadfastly ignored him. It was one of _those _days then, when Norway liked to pretend he didn't exist and ignored anything he did. Denmark usually combated this by annoying the blond or teasing him but for some reason, his heart just wasn't in it today. Probably because of that damn dream, keeping him up and taunting him- the Dane halfheartedly slid a hand through his hair, trying and failing to coax it into his usual disarray. Now even his hair was fighting him.

They all glanced up at the front door swinging open, and at Finland being almost dragged in by his tiny dog. The nation beamed at them, sliding off his coat and throwing it over the stair rail. One thing about the Finnish man was that he was _not _the tidy one of them all. "Morning- good to see you awake, Denmark-" He was cut off as Sweden kissed him, hands sliding around the Finn's waist as Finland threw his arms around his neck. Norway ignored them entirely, but seeing the two together was the final nail in the coffin for Denmark.

"I'm going to get some work done. Tell them that they're gross." He stood, bypassing the still-kissing nations and leaping up the stairs two at a time. He was still able to hear Norway's dry, scornful voice from the stairs.

"You, get work done? I'll believe _that _when I see it." The Norwegian's words made Denmark pause outside his bedroom, hands tightening into fists before turning to the wall and smacking his head against it.

Sure, he was overwhelmingly in love with Norway, but he was also the first to admit that the nation could be a sarcastic little bitch sometimes.

Denmark _did _get all the work from his boss done, whatever Norway had thought. It took him three hours but at least he proved the Norwegian wrong. As a means of celebration he ended up in a bar later that night, drinking himself stupid and whining all of his miseries to Netherlands, who seemed to take it all in his stride. It was probably because of whatever the hell he was smoking, but at least _someone _was actually listening to the Dane.

"You know, you should really do something about your feelings for him." Netherlands took a drag on his pipe, one eyebrow raised as Denmark slumped over the bar, nearly spilling his drink in the process. "You've been hung over him for too long. Enough is really enough. I can't see why you can't just talk to him about it- you live together most of the time."

"I can't just tell Norway that I'm in love with him, Ned," Denmark said miserably, wallowing in his own pity, "he'd kill me before I could finish the sentence. He's like that- doesn't like affection, but why the hell is he so obsessed with Iceland? I mean, I'm smarter, older, more talented, more beautiful in every way... it doesn't make _sense."_

Netherlands, good friend that he was, did nothing to reassure Denmark that he was, in fact, better than Iceland in every way. He merely clapped a hand on the Dane's back then reached into his pocket, intending to fill up his pipe. The Dutch man got through plenty of it, every time he was with his friend. "What's better- staying silent and making yourself depressed for even longer, or letting Norway know exactly how you feel? Maybe he thinks you're just joking around with him, and he'd actually listen to you if he knew you were being serious. It's always worth a try." Denmark raised his head, expression now thoughtful.

"You should become a therapist. You're good at all this emotional shit."

"And you're drunk, Den." Sitting back with his pipe clamped between his teeth, Netherlands silently observed the Scandinavian nation before speaking abruptly again. "If you're so obsessed that you're dreaming about him, _do _something about it. You're going to make yourself sick if this affects your sleep. It's easier to sort things out, I'm telling you."

"I'm a nation, I'm god damn _immortal." _Denmark smacked his head against the bar, grumbling under his breath. "Yeah, like that's going to work. Norway will probably turn me down, and then we'll never talk again because he's going to be creeped out, and I'll have to move in permanently with Sweden and Finland and live in their basement and have to listen to _them _having sex while I'm not getting any because Norway turned me down! It's going to fail so badly, I'm telling you. My life sucks."

"Your life doesn't suck, just because you can't tell Norway how you feel," Netherlands said calmly. "Come on, you're not yourself. Get it together and stop worrying about him. What happened to the former King of Scandinavia? I've only seen you have two, three drinks this whole night."

At his words, Denmark looked simply furious. "I'm having a _crisis _here, thank you, and getting drunk isn't gonna fix it." He considered his own words, then downed his drink in one. "But it helps me drown my sorrows, I guess. Another beer, my good sir!"

Netherlands sighed heavily. Maybe speaking up had been a mistake. Denmark was probably prepared to drink himself into oblivion tonight, then climb through Norway's window and declare his love at three in the morning. "You're staying at my place tonight. I'm not going to risk you going home in a state."

"I'm not in a state," Denmark mumbled, forehead back to its contact with the bar as he waited on another drink. "I will be, though- need to get the stupid Norwegian out of my head. I need to get drunk, Ned, so I can just stop _thinking. _Screw responsibilities, my heart hurts."

"I know, Denmark. I know." Privately, Netherlands felt the need to do _something. _The Dane's dancing around his feelings did no good for him, and Norway would probably suspect something was up before long. Denmark wasn't the most subtle of nations, let alone when he was wretched like this. "We'll talk about this some time, you hear? I'll help you get things sorted with Norway; it's not nice to see you like this."

"It's not nice for me, either," Denmark grumbled, but sighed. "Thanks, I guess. Better you than France, or _Germany. _But even that stupid German can say how he feels... damn, I have it bad. Stupid Sweden, stupid Finland, stupid _Iceland, _stupid idiotic Norway-"

"I hear you. Get up, you're coming back to my place." Netherlands stood, hauling one of Denmark's arms around his shoulders and pulling him to his feet. Denmark leaned heavy against him, rubbing a hand across his face with a groan.

"Finland's going to worry if I don't come home. Norway'll lose his temper with me tomorrow."

"I can't send you home in this state; it's not responsible. You can go home tomorrow, all right?" Blearily Denmark nodded, and Netherlands half-led, half-dragged him from the bar. His Dutch friend was right, in a way. There would only be disappointment from the others when he returned home wasted, again. Finland would sigh, Iceland would roll his eyes, Sweden would stay silent, and Norway would just raise his eyebrows, the usual scorn clear behind his eyes. Same old, same old.

Like _they _could judge. Finland was the worst drunk out of them all.

When he returned home the next day, having spent the night at Netherlands' after all, Norway was the first person he ran into. Cool blue eyes slid over his figure- thankfully, he was clean, and his hair was back to being perfect- and Denmark grinned sheepishly. "Morning, Norge. What's happening?"

"Nothing." Norway's voice was cold, reprimanding. "Where were you last night?"

"With Netherlands. Why, were you worried about me?" His heart leaps at this- maybe Norway was waiting for him to come home, waiting up for _him. _As usual, the Norwegian's hopes were crushed a moment later by Norway's unamused voice.

"No. Finland was just concerned. I went to bed early." At this Norway turned on his heel, effectively ending the conversation. Denmark watched him go, feeling an ache in his chest at the slim figure disappearing, the other nation happy to ignore him now he was home.

He really should have fallen in love with someone who would return his feelings.


	2. fantasy

**fantasy**, noun: the activity of imagining things that are impossible or improbable.

* * *

_This is a dream. You're a dream._ Norway raises his head from Denmark's chest, blinking up at him. They're back in Norway's room, one night later, and this time Denmark is miserable.

_What makes you say that? _His fingers are trailing over the other nation's neck as he presses a kiss to the hollow at his collarbone, and Denmark shudders. Norway smirks, triumphant at his reaction.

_Because you wouldn't be like this normally. Norway wouldn't do this. He acts like he hate me most of the time. _His words are true, of course- sometimes he fears that Norway despises him, despite their history, or maybe because of it. He left once before, heading to Sweden's without a backward glance. He could do it again in a heartbeat.

_I _am _Norway, _the apparition argues, now irritated with him. _I don't hate you. I've told you before, I _love _you. Why won't you listen to me, Denmark? You never listen to me- that's your problem. You can be so damn stubborn sometimes._

_Speak for yourself_ he says tiredly, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. _This is a dream. You- Norway- would not do this, and never tell me that you loved me. I'm not listening to you because I might believe you, and forget what is fantasy and what is reality. You and the Norway in reality are two different people._

Dream-Norway looks unhappy with this. _You wait all this time thinking that I don't return your feelings, and when I tell you that I love you truthfully you think I'm lying?_

_I don't think you're lying. But you _are_ a figment of my imagination, Norge. You're saying exactly what I want you to say-_

_Then believe me!_

_-but it's all wrong, _he continues, unperturbed by Norway's furious interruption. _This is a dream. It's my dream, and it's going exactly how I want it to go. Only there's the chance that I might start believing that it's true if you touch me, kiss me, respond to me- and in a way, it's worse than nothing happening at all. I'd rather have nothing than a delusion._

It takes Norway's imposter a few moments to come up with a response. _Wise words, Denmark. I didn't think you'd have it in you to say something so lyrical. _He sounds merely sulky, like a petulant child denied a gift. _But you don't want to get rid of me, do you? Don't deny yourself this. The only chance you get to be close to Norway- it really is a dream of yours. You can't just get rid of me, not now I'm exactly where you want me. _This fake Norway seems to be switching through emotions quickly- first care, then anger, and now seduction. He leans forward until his breath is ghosting over Denmark's face, fingers trailing down his torso. _Admit it. You can do whatever you want to me right now, without a fallout or any repercussions. Isn't it a wonderful thought?_

The Danish nation remains silent, jaw clenched in an effort to maintain his control. Norway- no, not Norway, the pretender_- _is right. It is his dream, after all. He can do whatever he wishes; he could throw Norway to the ground and take him- make slow, passionate love to him- do things he's yearned to do for so long. While tempting at first- how could it not be?- his stomach soon turns. It would be so wrong- this creature is not Norway. Behind the personality and appearance lay his own subconscious. Every one of Norway's reactions was a product of his own mind, a mind filled with so much desperation that he's created this fake being.

_Let go of me. _His voice is quiet, carefully controlled, and Norway breaks his mask to stare at him in confusion. _I said let go of me, Norway. I can't do this. You're not really Norway, and this isn't really happening. Get off of me, and let me wake up._

Norway stares at him for a moment longer. Then he releases Denmark, slim legs letting go of his waist and righting himself. The false nation stands before him, shoulders squared and tone close to mockery. _You'd prefer to stay silent in the shadows, nothing happening between us, than something happening now? Right now, you can do anything to me-_

_-and it would mean nothing _Denmark interrupts, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut. He can't take much more of this, much more of this damn temptation. Norway is before him, offering himself to him, but it's not Norway. _Something now would mean expecting something in the future, with Norway. You are _not _Norway._

Norway doesn't smile so openly. Norway is not seductive. Norway would not offer himself to Denmark like a common whore, promising whatever the Dane wants. He's quiet and solitary and intriguing, things Denmark has gained from years of being around him, not through his own dreams. Norway plays the violin and sings when he thinks no one is around, he twists his hair around his fingers when he's stressed, he once burst into tears and threw his arms around the Dane in a bone-crushing hug when Iceland fell into the sea as a child and was retrieved, soaking wet and shivering, by Denmark himself-

This Norway is not his Norway. His skin is more translucent, hair paler and hanging loose without the cross pin, and his eyes- sharper and more haunted than Norway's dreamy blue eyes- it's not his Norway, and Denmark will never be able to convince himself that this apparition is anywhere close to the Norway in his reality.

_You really are an idiot. _The phantom shakes his head, voice cold, and Denmark was almost relieved when the dream collapsed around him again. He started, awake and alert in his own bed, back in Denmark itself. The nation was covered in night sweat, and he carelessly wiped a hand across his face. The dreams are scaring him now- he was so close to giving into dream-Norway at one point, that terrible figure that beneath, barely resembled _his _Norway.

Netherlands was right. He needed to sort things out with Norway, or he was surely going to lose his mind.

* * *

"So, you're waiting here for Denmark, or...?"

Netherlands simply grunted, and Norway's question was left to hang in the air. The Scandinavian nation raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, and disappeared into the kitchen. Netherlands turned up unexpectedly at his home twenty minutes ago, took possession of his sofa, and had been sitting quietly ever since. And unless the Norwegian was very wrong, there was a baby rabbit sleeping inside of Netherlands' jacket. "I don't know where he is. He's been strange, recently; more than usual. Didn't stay here last night."

"Yeah. He's in Denmark." Norway raised his head, now frowning, and Netherlands cut over him before he could speak. "I wasn't expecting to see him here. I came to speak to you, Norway."

The Norwegian nodded slowly, his suspicion clear to see. They aren't close, or even friends- that would be Denmark's place- and the unexpected arrival of Netherlands means that something must be up. Probably a financial crisis. "What about?"

Netherlands shifted on the sofa, resisting the urge to take out his pipe. It might be needed, from dealing with these two nations. "He- Denmark- doesn't know I'm here. I'm sick of seeing him drinking and upsetting himself, so if he won't do anything about it, I will." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he wondered just _how _to say this to Norway. He settled on a blunt tone. "Denmark is in love with you, Norway." The other nation simply blinked at him calmly, and his next words shocked Netherlands.

"I know."

The Dutch man was thrown, and he stared at Norway in undisguised shock. "You _know? _Norway, this has been going on for years- if you know, why haven't you _done _anything about it?"

"Because Denmark is an idiot, Netherlands," Norway said calmly, tightening the clip in his hair, "that's all there is to say. He's an attention seeker, he's loud, he's irritating-"

"And how do you feel about him?" Netherlands interrupted. Norway stared at him for one, long moment, and then changed the topic.

"Did Denmark ask you to talk to me?"

"No." The Dutch nation scowled at Norway, irritated at the change of topic. "He doesn't know I'm here, but he's hurting, Norway. Denmark's under the impression than you hate him, and he hasn't told you about his feelings because he was afraid of you rejecting him completely. Would you?"

Norway considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I wouldn't. I've known the big oaf for too long. I couldn't do that; it would hurt."

"You or him?" The Scandinavian nation raised his eyes to Netherlands with a glare, but Netherlands pressed on regardless. "Tell me honestly Norway, do you have feelings for him? You've known each other for a long time, been friends for a long time... in all these years, have you ever felt any romantic feelings towards him? Have you ever seen him as more than a friend?"

"No," Norway said immediately, then hesitated. "If Denmark set you up to this, it isn't funny. Did he?"

"I've told you, he doesn't know that I'm here. He's probably still sleeping, if I think about it. Besides that." Netherlands' tone was serious, and he leaned forwards to look Norway in the eye. "Do you have any romantic feelings for Denmark?"

Norway glanced to his left, shaking his head defiantly. "No."

"Fine. Nothing else I can say." Netherlands stood and made his way to the front door, Norway leaping up and following him. "Oh, and I won't tell Denmark about this. I was just curious, so thanks for letting me know."

"Netherlands, I don't love Denmark. I never have, and I never will." Norway's voice was fierce, but from Netherlands' smirk, feared that the other nation had seen through his lie.

* * *

Denmark's attempt to talk to Norway in the best environment failed immediately. The one thing the nation hated among all others was someone hearing him play the violin and, right now, he was staring at Denmark with undisguised anger. Denmark leaned against the table beside him, his movements deliberately smooth. He hadn't intended to walk into Norway's house while the other nation was practicing, of course, but it appeared that luck wasn't on his side. It seemed that way, recently.

"What do you want?" The Norseman's words were biting, and Denmark tried to keep up his smile. Norway looked close to stabbing him with his bow, unless he calmed him down quickly, which was easier said than done.

"I came to see if you were okay. Haven't seen you in a few days." Denmark's voice was light and easy, though his thumbnail was digging into his palm. Norway kept up his glare, and Denmark's smile began to fade. It was always like this. Norway was always unhappy to see him, and always ready to get rid of him as soon as he could.

"Right. Fine. You've seen I'm all right. Anything else?"

"Will you play something for me, Norge?"

"No."

"What if I say please? Pretty please?"

"No."

"Aw, come on. I haven't heard you play for years."

"I intend to keep it that way."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Denmark's next question shook Norway, and he blinked in surprise at the question. The other nation wasn't joking anymore, his eyes now narrowed and steely upon the Norwegian. "What exactly is it about me that you loathe?"

Norway wasn't quite sure how to respond to the sudden accusation, and he thought for a moment before hesitantly answering. "I don't hate you," he said lamely, violin now hanging loosely by his side. "I've never hated you, Denmark. Why would you think that?" There had been a definite switch in the Dane's attitude, from teasing to sudden seriousness, and Norway felt uncomfortable with the change.

"Really? You're never hated me?" Denmark's tone was almost mocking as he ignored Norway's question. "What about that time you left with Sweden? When our union broke down? Did you ever, just once, hate me then? Is it my personality- tell me honestly, Norway, if I irritate you. I'm sorry that I'm not like Iceland. I know you'd prefer me if I was."

"No, I _wouldn't!" _Norway said indignantly, thrown by Denmark's words. "Denmark, it's not true- I don't _want_ you to be like Iceland. You and my brother are two different people, and I don't want there to be two of him. I didn't hate you back then, with- with Sweden, and I don't hate you now." Norway didn't like physical contact, but he felt as if he should pat the Dane's arm or something- just _anything _to calm him down. "What's gotten into you? Why are you asking me all this?"

"Because, Norway, I love you. Because I've been in love with you for years, and it's driving me insane because it's a stupid fantasy that isn't going to come true." The nation's words came in one breath, and Norway stared at him, at his anger, with open alarm. "There. You've heard it now. Why did you think I wanted to spend time with you without everyone else hanging around? Why do you _think _I'm so jealous of Iceland? I've been kept up with these stupid nightmares, and I'm sick of it. I really am, Norge." Denmark closed his eyes, lifting his hands to his hair and running them through it erratically. He wasn't supposed to tell Norway- not like this- and the Norwegian bit his lip as Denmark fumed before him. Denmark looked like he was going mad, and he felt a pang of guilt at the other nation's behaviour.

"I knew you did, Denmark." The other nation's head shot up, and Norway's face flushed out of embarrassment. "You don't hide things well. I think Sweden's guessed, too. Netherlands came to see me a few days ago, and he told me you were upset because of it.."

"_Netherlands-?"_

"He was concerned about you, so he spoke to me about it." Norway spoke calmly, in an attempt to talk some sense into Denmark. He couldn't quite meet Denmark's eyes, gaze focused instead on the ground. "He asked me about my feelings- more like he annoyed me- and I told him that I couldn't hate you over it. Denmark, however much you can be annoying, I would never hate you. I can be pissed off at you, but that's different from all-out loathing you."

"What about your feelings?" Denmark disregarded most of his words, mouth pressed into a straight line. "What did you tell him? Norway, please. Just tell me."

"Denmark-"

"How do you feel about me?" His words were more of an order than a question and Norway straightened his back, trying to arrange his features into his usual blank mask. "Tell me honestly, Norway. How do you feel about me?"

Norway raised his chin, trying to keep up his calm facade. "I don't hate you, Denmark. Dare I say it, you're my friend, and- and I care about you." The words were bitter to force out, and he took steady breaths to try and calm his racing heart.

"Prove it."

"What?" Norway's eyes met Denmark's, his eyebrows creased together in confusion. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the Dane wear such a serious expression, or shake so badly. "What did you say?"

"Prove that you care about me," Denmark repeated, breathing erratic now. "If you'd care about me, I'd see it. Norway, you never want to spend time with me- you never act as if you even like me being around you. Do you? You just- you seem like you hate me, you act like you do. And if that's not true, prove it. Say something nice for once, instead of what you usually tell me."

Shame flashed across Norway's face, and his gaze slid back to the floor. Silence stretched out between the two, only broken by their breathing. A moment later, the Norwegian took a hesitant step forwards, then another, until he was standing before Denmark. Norway turned and laid his violin reverently upon the table beside them, then looked up into Denmark's face. Everything was silent, until Norway reached out with shaking hands to clasp Denmark's face and pull him down into a kiss.

Norway was a good few inches shorter than Denmark, and the Dane had to lean down to keep their contact as he wrapped an arm around Norway's waist, holding the nation closer to him. His other hand was stroking Norway's face, and the Norwegian tangled his hands in Denmark's hair with a soft sigh. This was one hell of a lot better than any dream he could come up with- Norway's face was soft, his lips warm, and it was he who had started it in reality. Denmark resisting the urge to smirk into their kiss, the tip of Norway's tongue trailing along his bottom lip.

It was all too soon when Norway broke away, stepping back from Denmark and letting his hands slowly slide down the Dane's chest until they were hanging by his sides again. He avoided Denmark's gaze, face white and voice a pained whisper when he spoke again.

"There. Is that enough proof, Denmark?"

He turned and slowly left the room, leaving Denmark standing quite alone.


	3. reality

**reality**, noun: the world as it actually exists, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of it.

* * *

On the third night, Denmark's dream was a memory, rather than another nightmare. It had happened centuries ago- he, Norway and Sweden had been teenagers at the time- and yet he could still feel the salt water chilling his bones, hear the small child's terrified sobs as he tried to reassure him.

"Hey, little guy. You okay? Come on, I'm here now, I've got you." Denmark scooped the child up in his arms and Iceland clung to him, shaking and trying to stem his tears. The other nation couldn't blame him; the water was freezing and Iceland was nothing more than a toddler who couldn't swim. "Norge has been freaking out, believe me. But I'm here now, all right? No need to worry."

In fact, Norway had started panicking immediately when Iceland had disappeared from practically in front of them. Then the Norwegian had started screaming they saw Iceland- tiny little Icey, the fifth and youngest brother- had ended up in the sea, struggling to swim with his white head barely visible above the water. Denmark had to admit that he hadn't thought before running into the surf, throwing off his outer tunic and instructing Norway to stay behind before swimming out to meet Iceland. The water was bitterly cold and unsettled even for him, the King of Scandinavia, but what mattered now was the shaking child bundled in his arms.

With one arm still holding Iceland close, Denmark used the other to half-paddle through the water. The kid had ended up pretty far off-shore- a good fifty meters, if he had to guess- and no doubt a frantic Norway was waiting at the beach. He was probably blaming himself for Iceland wandering off and getting swept out, and Denmark smirked at the thought of his reaction. He'd probably come wading out of the sea like one of the majestic gods, holding Iceland close and looking exceedingly noble. Not as if this was all for Norway- he genuinely did like Iceland. The kid was cute, even if he stole his brother's attention.

"I'm sorry." Sudden tears welled up in Iceland's violet eyes, alarming the Dane. "I didn't mean to get so far out. Is big brother mad at me?" That was Iceland, always worried about upsetting the brother that doted on him.

"Hey, don't cry! No one is mad at you, Icey. We were just worried. Cheer up- he's probably going to fuss over you even more now." Denmark tightened his arm around Iceland, leaning down to press a kiss to the white hair. "It's not your fault; the sea can be unpredictable. The only thing any of us are concerned about is your safety."

Out of the original three Scandinavian nations, Denmark had been the only one not to raise a child. Sweden- wherever he was now, probably back at home- had little Finland, and of course, Norway had Iceland. He hadn't minded too much: he'd cooed over the kids and played with them when they'd first showed up, taking the role of Big Brother Denmark, but he hadn't wished to have one himself. But now, cuddling and reassuring a sniffing Iceland was surprisingly enjoyable. Maybe Norway and Sweden had made the right decision, to pick up the two kids and declare them part of the family-

"Iceland!" They heard Norway's shriek before they saw him, the nation splashing through the surf to reach them. Iceland's cry of 'big brother!' was drowned out when Norway threw his arms around them, sobbing and clinging to them both for dear life. Denmark flushed, stepping back and allowing Norway to take hold of his brother. Norway never cried, not once, and yet the tears- probably a mix of fear and relief- were clearly running down his face.

"I was so worried- you do _not_ run off like that again!" Norway tried to speak sternly, eyes fixed on Iceland, but pulled him into a tight hug again when the boy nodded, his shoulders still shaking with tears. Denmark stood awkwardly beside them, shaking out his limp hair soaked with salt water, until Norway set Iceland down on his little feet and turned to him. The Norwegian's eyelashes were spiked with tears, and his voice shook as he addressed the Dane.

"You saved him. You saved my little brother."

"Well, I could hardly stand by and let him drown-" Denmark was cut off when Norway wrapped his arms around him, face pressed to his chest and voice still choked with tears.

"Thank you, Denmark. Thank you so much. I can't ever repay you." Denmark's breath caught at his words, and he hesitantly patted Norway's blond head. Norway hadn't been this close to him since before Iceland and Finland were picked up, and even back then Sweden had been there with them, curled up together for heat when the weather was at its worst.

"Aw, Norge, don't be like that. I'm the King, right? I have to protect you guys. Anyway, Icey is okay now. That's the important thing." Norway snorted at his words but nodded, releasing him. Iceland held out his arms for Norway to pick him up, and snuggled against his side when Norway lifted him. Denmark expected it all to be over, for Norway to calm down and go into his usual monotonous state, until the Norwegian slipped a hand into his and tugged him towards the mainland.

"Come on. Sweden and Finland will be waiting, and we have to get you two warmed up." Norway paused, and his voice was soft as he spoke again. "I'm not going to forget this, Denmark. My little brother would have drowned without you. I can never thank you enough."

Denmark was silent at his words, and he glanced down at their entwined hands. Then he grinned, and allowed Norway to pull him towards the shore.

It was then, he later realised, that he began to fall in love with Norway.

* * *

"H've to do somethin'. Sexual tension's through the roof."

"Swe! Don't say that!" Finland hissed, aghast, while Iceland covered his mouth with a hand. "You can put it better than that!" Sweden only shrugged, unperturbed by his own words.

"'S true. We need to do somethin' for them."

The three were gathered in their shared home, in an unofficial meeting around the coffee bar. It was unofficial because, of course, all five of them weren't together- Denmark and Norway had both disappeared and were refusing to answer their calls. Iceland had managed to speak briefly to his brother, before the Norwegian slammed the phone down, and had gathered that... _something _happened between him and Denmark. The remaining family members had decided to talk about it among themselves, and see if a resolution could be made. Finland had made liquorice for the occasion.

"There's one main problem." Finland looked embarrassed, now fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Denmark's never quite forgiven us for leaving."

"It's been a long time." Iceland's cheeks were flushed pink at Finland's words. "He needs to forget it and move on. We can all see he's miserable around Norway, but I just don't get why."

"Because he thinks that we're going to leave him again." They all looked up at Sweden, at the grim expression he wore. "He thinks that he's going to become closer to Norway only for him to leave. It's driving him mad, because he thinks he's going to lose us again."

It was true- they all knew of Denmark's fury after his power had broken down. Sure, they all got along well now, but it hadn't been that way for quite some time. Sweden and Finland leaving had been bad enough, to begin with, yet Denmark had snapped when Norway had followed later. None of them had really thought why at the time- they just assumed that it was another of his subordinates leaving him. Clearly, things had been deeper than that, and their effects still lingering even now.

"But we're not going to leave!" Finland cried indignantly, clearly upset by their discussion. "It was bad enough the first time; it's not going to happen again, but he doesn't realise that! He's so in love with Norway, and we can _all_ see it! They just need to talk things through, because as it is now, it's making them both depressed while they skirt around the issue.."

"Norway loves him, too." Iceland's voice was quiet, and Sweden raised his eyebrows. "I know my brother. He's in love with Denmark, but he's embarrassed about it. He's acted as if he hated him for so long, and he's still trying to convince himself that he does. But he loves Denmark, just as he loves him. I don't know if he's faced up to it or not."

"We'll _make _him face up to it, then- and _no, _Sweden, I _can_ get involved, because this is my family too!" Finland spoke fiercely, and Sweden sat back with a disgruntled expression. "They need to talk things through, or see each other, or just be in the same room-"

"Been there. Done that. He doesn't care." Their heads all shot up at the sound of Denmark's weary voice, the Dane dragging himself into the room with a tired smile. "Norway doesn't care about me. And if he does, he doesn't want anything to happen. Sorry, guys. You brought the snacks out for nothing."

"Denmark!" Finland squeaked as the Dane reached out to grasp a handful of liquorice, alarm clear in his eyes. "Where have you been? We've been worried about you- and what's this all about Norway? What happened between you? Don't tell me you _slept _together-"

"One question at a time, Fin," Iceland said quietly, looking up at Denmark with undisguised worry written over his face. "What happened with Norway? What did you tell him?"

"That I loved him." Denmark's speech was cut off for a few moments by the liquorice he was chewing on, but he retained his sad, almost guilty smile. "He said he didn't hate me. But then he kissed me, and seriously, guys, it was pretty freaking awesome."

"That's good though, right?" Finland beamed, looking delighted all of a sudden. "_He _kissed _you! _That's a good thing!"

"I'm not done yet, Finland. He kissed me, and then he left." The smile slipped from Denmark's face, leaving behind a grim frown. "I tried to call him and talk, to find out what was going on, but he hasn't replied. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk to me. So there you go; he knows I love him, he apparently cares about me, but that's it. End of story. He doesn't want me."

Silence followed Denmark's words, and the Dane slowly moved away from the table to the direction of the stairs. Finland's face was red and Iceland's gaze focused on the floor, but Sweden pushed his chair away with a screech and marched over to Denmark, grabbing his arm when the blond was still on the bottom stairs. Denmark was forced to look him in the eye, and he scowled like a child at the Swede.

"What do you want now? Come to gloat, with your perfect little relationship right in front of me-?"

"No," Sweden said simply, eyes stern behind his glasses. "Came to ask you why you haven't smash'd down his door an' forced him to list'n to you. It's what you would've done bef're."

"I'm not who I was before, Swe." Denmark's bravado seemed to fall suddenly, and he turned away, jerking his arm from Sweden's grasp. "I don't rule Scandinavia. I'm not a viking anymore. I don't have the power I used to- I don't have the _control-"_

"Denm'rk. W're not gonna leave you again. Y're not gonna lose us, an' y're not gonna lose Norway again." Sweden's voice was serious, and Denmark hesitantly met his solid gaze. "Y've got to get ov'r this. We've been together again f'r a long time now. Y'need to talk to him. You might not be a viking, but y're still strong enough to do this."

"Sweden's right!" Denmark glanced over to where Finland was now standing, waving an arm frantically to grasp his attention. "You're both going to go mad if you don't talk it out! Iceland says he's in love with you too!" A silence followed his words, during which Denmark gaped at him and Sweden covered his face with a hand, before Finland realised what he'd said. "Oh... I guess I shouldn't have told you that. But you need to see him! We're a family, and families love each other, even if they argue sometimes. Go find Norway, so you can both be happy!"

Most of the Finnish man's words were ignored, and the Dane instead turned to stare at Iceland. "Is it true?" His words were a whisper, half-filled with hope, and confirmed by Iceland's solemn nod. Denmark turned to face Sweden, and the Swede raised his eyebrows at the grin spreading across his face. "I love you guys, you know that, right?" He made as if to hug Sweden, but thought better of it, and instead bypassed him to sprint to the door. "I'm going to find Norway! Don't wait up- if we're late home, it's gonna be because we're having sex!"

"Good luck!" Finland called, even as the door slammed shut behind the Dane. They could hear the gravel outside crunching as Denmark ran off, and they all turned to face each other again. Iceland's face was burning, and even Sweden looked unsettled by Denmark's words. "Ignore his last bit. They're going to talk, and work things out! Just hope it goes well, all right?"

"I don't know _how well _I want it to go," Iceland muttered, but even he couldn't deny his relief at Denmark's returned bravado. Things could get no worse; really, it was time for them to get better.

* * *

"I didn't expect to see you here." Denmark's voice was quiet, and Norway shrugged, moving to sit more comfortably on the hard stone. After finding the Norwegian's house empty Denmark had reluctantly returned to his own, only to find Norway sitting on his front door step waiting for him.

"I didn't expect to be here either. But here I am." The Norwegian lapsed into silence, and Denmark sat down heavily beside him, their knees almost touching on the step. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the only sounds their breathing and the distant sound of cars, before Denmark spoke up again.

"Why did you run off? After you kissed me, I mean. You just _left. _It scared me, Nor." Norway's gaze remained focused on the ground, and Denmark could tell that the other nation was embarrassed. "Why didn't you just talk to me? And _why_ did you kiss me?"

"Because I have feelings for you, you idiot." Norway's mutter was so quiet that it was nearly missed by the Dane. "And I thought it would be a good idea to kiss you, which is more like something _you'd _do. And it was stupid, so I left. I was humiliated about it. Are you happy now?"

Denmark thought for a moment, eyebrows pulled together. Well, at least Iceland had been right. Norway didn't _hate _him- or maybe he did, because of his apparent feelings. "Not really. You still could have spoken to me about it. You know I love you, right?"

"Yes, you told me. Several times, actually." They lapsed back into silence, and Norway hesitantly glanced up at him. "You weren't lying about it, were you? About loving me? Because if you were, Denmark, I swear-"

"Course I wasn't. Don't be stupid, Nor. Like I'd lie about that." Norway flinched when Denmark ruffled his hair, glaring up at the other nation. "I just thought _you _were lying about caring about me, because you ran off. What do you mean, you care for me, anyway? It could mean a lot of different things." The Norwegian's glare intensified at Denmark's familiar, arrogant smile.

"You know what it means."

"Can you spell it out for me?"

"I love you, Denmark." Norway's voice was low and frank, and he drew his knees to his chest with a grimace. "I'm in love with you. I wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to kiss you for a long time, because _I love you. _Get it now? Does it make sense to you?"

Denmark was silent, contemplating Norway's words. He hadn't expected this. Not like this, not _ever. _Norway was stubborn, and proud- under normal circumstances, he would never admit to such a thing with so little persuasion. "I still don't get why you ran off, though."

"Because it's _embarrassing, _you dolt. We haven't gotten along, and we've fought, and argued- and now you want me to admit that I love you?" Norway ran both hands through his hair, letting out a harsh breath. "What are the rest of them going to say? What are they going to think-?"

"You're seriously worrying about what everyone else thinks?" Denmark's voice was quiet, honest, and he was staring Norway in the eye. "Don't. Look at Sweden and Finland. They're happy- we could be like that too, you know. We could have what they have." Norway smiled bitterly, shaking his head slightly.

"But they're perfect. They're perfect people, they're perfect _together. _We can't be like that, Denmark, we can't be like them in a thousand years."

"I'm not asking you for us to be perfect. I'm asking for you to _try."_

"Yes, but-"

"But what?" Denmark interrupted, grabbing the Norwegian's hands with his expression finally serious. "Please, Norway. You love me. I love you. I know we're not perfect- and yeah, I doubt we're ever going to be perfect. We're nations. It comes with the job, pretty much. We've fought, and we've hated each other, but what matters now is that we have feelings for each other, and we should do something _positive _about them. Please, Norge. What do you say?"

Norway stared at him, unsure of what to say for a moment. Then he blinked, furious at the tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. He would _not _cry. He would _not _show this stupid, arrogant, wonderful idiot that he was making him cry-

"Just kiss him already, Norway." They both jumped, glancing up at the towering figure before them. Netherlands was wearing a mask of total calm, seemingly unperturbed by the awkward situation. "It's the only way to sort things out. You have to admit it, that was pretty damn good of Denmark to come out with. I only came to get the pipe I left here, but that speech of his was impressive. It's obvious he's crazy about you." Denmark grinned, shrugging modestly, but Norway remained silent. "Come on. Don't just-"

Netherlands paused as Norway pulled Denmark to him, meeting him in a kiss. Almost immediately, the Dane wrapped his arms around the Norwegian and returned the kiss eagerly, running a hand through the soft blond hair. The Dutch man shook his head in exasperation as he bypassed the two, letting himself into Denmark's house, but no one could miss the smirk present on his features.

"_Now _are you happy?" Norway whispered as they broke away, cheeks burning with humiliation. Denmark only grinned, pushing the Norwegian's soft blond hair back from his face.

"We're going to work on something, all right? A relationship, partnership- whatever. I love you, Norge, and I'm going to prove it to you. We're not perfect, but we can work on it. You hear me?"

"This is all moving too fast." Norway's voice had its familiar whine to it, but Denmark could see him struggling to hide his pleasure. "And is this really going to work? There's so much we don't know about each other still. We're friends, not... _boyfriends, _or whatever you want to call it. It's going to take a lot of work, you know. I'm not going to have you slacking off."

"Who said anything about slacking off? Don't be a pessimist, Norway." Denmark leaned closer, breath ghosting over Norway's face as the nation's lips curved in a smile at his words. "We're immortal- we have forever to work on that. We can do this. All that matters is that I love you, and I want to work on us. You hear me? I love you, Norway."

"I love you too." Norway's words came easily now and, hesitantly, he smiled up at the Dane. The other nation only grinned, leaning down to reconnect their lips as his mind worked things out.

They weren't perfect, but they could have something resembling perfection.

It took some effort, but whenever Norway smiled, it was a satisfying reward.

And, most of all, the Norway kissing him now was a _lot _better than any of his dreams.

**_the end_**


End file.
